people connected with the director. Even though she was convinced if they could unravel the lies they would identify the killer, she had no idea which thread to tug on first.
CHAPTER
NINE
Sitting in the Metro/Dade film office in the old Vizcaya estate gatehouse with Molly and Jeannette, Vince waved a handful of newspaper clippings in their faces on Monday morning. It was the first time Vince had been in the office before nine in all the years Molly had worked for him.
Vince explained to anyone who asked that he had to stay later in the evening for all of the office’s West Coast contacts. Those who didn’t ask already knew that he tried to fit at least nine holes of golf into the early morning hours. When nothing was on his calendar, he went ahead and played the full eighteen. It took a crisis of major proportions for him to schedule anything before noon. Molly supposed the murder qualified.
As the clippings fluttered, Molly managed to catch mastheads from half the major papers in theU.S., plus a couple from overseas. The headlines in English were not encouraging.
“It’s a disaster,” he said, confirming her own quick analysis. His expression was accusing. “How could you let this happen? The reason I sent you over there to baby-sit this production was to keep everybody happy. I assumed you knew that also meant they should stay alive.”
Jeannette shot Molly a sympathetic look as Vince’s tirade went on. “I’ve had calls from the county manager, half a dozen different local mayors, to say nothing of tourism officials and the film liaison in Orlando who can’t wait to snatch victory out of the jaws of our defeat,” he said. “Are you trying to destroy this office?”
“Excuse me?” Molly said incredulously.
Jeannette muttered under her breath in Creole. Molly had a feeling that if she’d known exactly what the Haitian clerk was saying, she would have echoed it. Their boss had a way of viewing all calamities in relation to the safety of his own neck.
“I did not kill Gregory Kinsey,” Molly reminded him slowly and emphatically. “I could hardly cover up the man’s death. Did you want me to dump the body in the Everglades and hope that nobody noticed the man was missing? Maybe I should have finished directing the picture myself.”
Vince gaped at her sarcasm. Finally his shoulders sagged, and he dropped the clippings on his cluttered desk. “No, of course not. How are we going to handle this, though? Do you realize that I had half a dozen calls at home over the weekend fromproducers we’ve been trying to lure to south Florida? They’re all very nervous.”
“I think you can safely reassure them that we do not have a serial killer on the loose who’s targeting Hollywood directors,” Molly said dryly.
“You don’t know that.”
Molly rolled her gaze heavenward and prayed for patience. “Okay, Vince, what would you like me to do?”
“We have to solve this thing as quickly as possible if we’re going to minimize the damage. Talk to that cop friend of yours, the one who worked on the murder in your building.”
“I have talked to him. It’s not in his jurisdiction. He’s with Metro, not Miami Beach.”
“But he’s good, right?”
“He’s good.”
“Then I’ll take care of it.”
Molly didn’t like the sound of that. She had a strong hunch Michael would like it even less. “What are you going to do?” she asked cautiously.
“Don’t give it another thought,” Vince said, looking more cheerful. “Just get the hell over to GK Productions and do whatever you can to keep them from packing up and fleeing to L.A. to finish this in the studio. Take Jeannette with you,” he added magnanimously. “She can answer phones, take dictation, whatever they need.”
Molly cast a look at the thirty-year-old Haitian woman with the close-cropped hair and regal bearing. She was the bane of Vince’s existence. Her round mahogany face was totally devoid of expression, but Molly could
CHAPTER
NINE
Sitting in the Metro/Dade film office in the old Vizcaya estate gatehouse with Molly and Jeannette, Vince waved a handful of newspaper clippings in their faces on Monday morning. It was the first time Vince had been in the office before nine in all the years Molly had worked for him.
Vince explained to anyone who asked that he had to stay later in the evening for all of the office’s West Coast contacts. Those who didn’t ask already knew that he tried to fit at least nine holes of golf into the early morning hours. When nothing was on his calendar, he went ahead and played the full eighteen. It took a crisis of major proportions for him to schedule anything before noon. Molly supposed the murder qualified.
As the clippings fluttered, Molly managed to catch mastheads from half the major papers in theU.S., plus a couple from overseas. The headlines in English were not encouraging.
“It’s a disaster,” he said, confirming her own quick analysis. His expression was accusing. “How could you let this happen? The reason I sent you over there to baby-sit this production was to keep everybody happy. I assumed you knew that also meant they should stay alive.”
Jeannette shot Molly a sympathetic look as Vince’s tirade went on. “I’ve had calls from the county manager, half a dozen different local mayors, to say nothing of tourism officials and the film liaison in Orlando who can’t wait to snatch victory out of the jaws of our defeat,” he said. “Are you trying to destroy this office?”
“Excuse me?” Molly said incredulously.
Jeannette muttered under her breath in Creole. Molly had a feeling that if she’d known exactly what the Haitian clerk was saying, she would have echoed it. Their boss had a way of viewing all calamities in relation to the safety of his own neck.
“I did not kill Gregory Kinsey,” Molly reminded him slowly and emphatically. “I could hardly cover up the man’s death. Did you want me to dump the body in the Everglades and hope that nobody noticed the man was missing? Maybe I should have finished directing the picture myself.”
Vince gaped at her sarcasm. Finally his shoulders sagged, and he dropped the clippings on his cluttered desk. “No, of course not. How are we going to handle this, though? Do you realize that I had half a dozen calls at home over the weekend fromproducers we’ve been trying to lure to south Florida? They’re all very nervous.”
“I think you can safely reassure them that we do not have a serial killer on the loose who’s targeting Hollywood directors,” Molly said dryly.
“You don’t know that.”
Molly rolled her gaze heavenward and prayed for patience. “Okay, Vince, what would you like me to do?”
“We have to solve this thing as quickly as possible if we’re going to minimize the damage. Talk to that cop friend of yours, the one who worked on the murder in your building.”
“I have talked to him. It’s not in his jurisdiction. He’s with Metro, not Miami Beach.”
“But he’s good, right?”
“He’s good.”
“Then I’ll take care of it.”
Molly didn’t like the sound of that. She had a strong hunch Michael would like it even less. “What are you going to do?” she asked cautiously.
“Don’t give it another thought,” Vince said, looking more cheerful. “Just get the hell over to GK Productions and do whatever you can to keep them from packing up and fleeing to L.A. to finish this in the studio. Take Jeannette with you,” he added magnanimously. “She can answer phones, take dictation, whatever they need.”
Molly cast a look at the thirty-year-old Haitian woman with the close-cropped hair and regal bearing. She was the bane of Vince’s existence. Her round mahogany face was totally devoid of expression, but Molly could
Similar Books
